Shortage (Best Laid Plans Book 2) (33 page)

Unfortunately the rest of the world, particularly the Gold Bloc, expected the US to fold. Especially since Russia was offering fuel to help those troops get home to their families, as well as limited aid to the country in its current crisis. Nobody expected the government to pass up that kind of deal.

Trev certainly hoped they wouldn't. There'd been enough chaos and death without adding war on top of it, and for the US holding Canada's oil in a death grip when there was no hope of the country returning to sustainability in the near future, and perhaps not for decades, was foolish if not suicidal.

Lewis had another perspective, if not a pleasant one. “I have my doubts about whether anything the US does will ultimately change things,” he said grimly. “We're struggling just to survive, with rebuilding a long way away and any sort of coordinated military presence even more distant. The Gold Bloc could've made deals for Canadian oil without invading Canada at all, which means if they were invited in then those troops aren't meant to stay on Canadian soil.”

A trickle of ice spread down Trev's spine. “You think they're planning to invade the US once Canada's secured?”

“They might not even wait that long.” Lewis shook his head. “Think about it. Most occupations are difficult because even after you've dealt with the occupied country's military you still have to deal with resistance among the civilian population and the effort and expense of moving troops and keeping them supplied.”

“Well I'd say our military is very nearly dealt with,” Chauncey said grimly.

“Which gets us to occupation. The US's greatest defense has always been that trying to occupy any of our territory would be a logistical nightmare for anyone on another continent, because taking supply lines across either the Atlantic or the Pacific would increase the time, expense, and difficulty to coordinate by orders of magnitude. And then once they got on US soil they'd be facing a population of hundreds of millions of people with a reputation as being one of the most well armed populaces in the world.

The only way they could hope to manage it is with the cooperation of either Canada or Mexico to use as a point to launch the invasion. Up until now the US would've immediately intervened if enemy troops had tried something like that, and we'd have shorter supply lines to our neighbors than an enemy preparing an invasion from their soil. It would be easier for us to defend than for them to attack.”

Trev nodded slowly, feeling sick. “So now that our military is out of the picture and hundreds of millions of US citizens have died, and the rest are stranded wherever they are with no fuel to mount any sort of resistance, an enemy could just drive right in and take our nation piece by piece.”

“We'd be an ideal target, too,” Chauncey muttered. “We were knocked out without needing to use nukes, disease, EMP, or even good old fashioned bombing. Our people are dead but all the infrastructure, commodities besides food, and wealth remains. They could even move settlers in to live in fully functional communities without too much trouble. Probably a tempting prospect for China with their large population.”

This wasn't exactly the most heartening conversation. Trev knew it was probably something they'd have to prepare to deal with, assuming that was even possible, but for now the twitching between his shoulder blades was encouraging him to change the subject. Although there was one important thing he had to mention. “How far have you been able to go with your radio contacts?” he asked Chauncey.

The older man gave him an odd look. “Mostly local people. News gets passed on to them from people even farther away, kind of like dominos.”

Lewis guessed where his thoughts had taken him. “Uncle George probably knows all this already. I'm sure he's ready to get your family to safety if it looks like the US is going to be invaded. For all we know they could already be on their way here.”

Chauncey glanced at him, eyes widening. “That's right. Your family moved to Michigan, didn't they? There's a chance they'll be right in the path of any invasion from Canada.”

That was in fact the unpleasant realization Trev's thoughts had been dancing around. He could've done without his fears being spoken and made real. “Once you get your radio running do you think you can try to contact them?” he asked Lewis.

His cousin nodded. “I'll try. HAM operators are a pretty cooperative bunch, I've found. I'm sure I can get some help relaying a message to Greenbush. Until then how about a change of subject? It'd be nice to know how the other towns in the area are doing.”

Chauncey grimaced. “Yeah, I suppose you'll want to hear about Price.”

Trev frowned. “Is it good news?”

“I'll give you one guess and a hint: the answer's not “yes.” The retired teacher shook his head. “If you hadn't heard, Price got hit by a disease late last fall. Some sort of flu in the refugee camp there that spread quickly, thanks to refugees thinking it was worse than it was and fleeing in a panic. High transference, low mortality. Might've even been a more common strain.”

“I'm guessing it was worse than you're making it sound,” Lewis said. “Did it hit Aspen Hill?”

“No, Matt did a good job of keeping out anyone who might've carried it. But the problem is that even if it had a low mortality rate on its own, the refugees were all weakened by hunger and cold, and the people of Price and Carbonville it spread to weren't much better off. It seemed to be just enough to push most of the infected over the edge, and by the time it played itself out tens of thousands of people ended up dead. Including a lot of people who survived it only to get hit by winter and find themselves too weak to respond.”

They shared a moment of grim silence for the fallen, then Trev cleared his throat. “Is Price still around?”

“Barely. The refugees ate up most of the food they had, including the stuff brought by the FETF convoy, before the flu struck. After that it was the same story of people doing what they could to survive. From what I hear there's maybe five thousand people left, with more dying every day.”

The news made Trev feel tired and sick. Price's population had been more than half again that before the Gulf refineries attack. Assuming the tens of thousands of refugees who'd come there had all died and those that remained were only original residents of Price, which was unlikely, it meant almost 3,500 of them had died. A poor reward for the generosity of accepting every hungry mouth that came to their city.

Of course Aspen Hill hadn't fared much better, thanks to Ferris.

As if sensing they'd heard enough bad news, Chauncey changed the topic to the solar panel and battery setup. Trev wasn't too familiar with electronics, so he left the other two to talk while he stewed in his thoughts. Mostly worry about his family. He was relieved when they reached the town and he was distracted by the chance to see how it had changed over the winter.

It hadn't, but then again it had. The buildings seemed dirtier, less well maintained, the streets either snowed over or paths crudely shoveled through the little snow that still remained after the warmth of the last week.

The people seemed dirtier too, even though the spring provided plenty of clean water, as if they couldn't be bothered to wash, and far too many looked skeletal, limping along on unsteady feet. Heads turned to look at them as they passed, taking in their relative health and cleanliness, and Trev thought he saw resentment and even darker emotions on some of those hopeless faces.

As if that wasn't enough to show him what the town had gone through they passed a small park near the town's center with a single swing set where Trev remembered playing as a child. Only now the snowy ground was humped with row after row of graves filling the space, most marked with no more than a crude wooden cross thrust into the ground with the deceased's name carved on it. Chauncey's eyes grew sad as they passed the new graveyard, and he quieted and slowed down as if in reverence until they were passed.

Trev was almost frightened to ask if the older man's family were all okay, and he felt a surge of relief when he was assured that the retired teacher's wife and sons were still healthy, all things considered.

“We had our goats and their milk, along with a bit of a garden and some fruit trees,” he said quietly. “None of what we had was the sort of thing FETF was interested in taking. The goats would've been work for them, and the fruit and vegetables we ate as they ripened. They picked a bit of it in passing, but just for a snack after one of their inspections. Thanks to that we fared better than just about anyone.”

Thinking back on the winter they'd spent up in the mountains, Trev realized that as hard as it had seemed they'd really had it good after all. Even the boredom seemed a petty thing to complain about.

Soon after that they reached Tillman's, which apparently served as Terry's clinic as well as the storehouse now. Once inside Lewis plugged in the laptop and pushed the power button, and they all held their breath as they waited for it to boot up.

It did, without a hitch. “Now for the real test,” Lewis said as he set the portable hard drives on the counter beside the computer.

Trev anxiously watched while his cousin worked. The working laptop was a good sign, but it wouldn't mean much if the terabytes of data on the portable hard drives had been corrupted. When Lewis plugged in a drive and the drive icon showed up on the screen his cousin leaned back, tension easing from his shoulders that Trev hadn't even noticed until it was gone. “It works.” He clicked a few times. “It's all here.”

Then in an uncharacteristic display of emotion Lewis gave Trev a high five. And after months of days and nights full of repetitive conversations and learning to play half remembered songs on cheap instruments Trev was just as enthusiastic returning the gesture. “Looks like the movie night is on.”

Standing behind them Chauncey clapped his hands. “I'll go grab the projector from town hall.”

Chapter Fifteen

A Glimmer of Hope

As they were setting up for the movie the Larson family arrived, having left the shelter locked from the outside, and Matt and Sam came over to chat as they worked out the kinks in the thrown together projection and sound systems they'd put up around the clinic.

According to their friend the Mayor organized these kinds of town get-togethers often, searching for anything that didn't take too much needless effort from the townspeople or resources from the town to lift spirits however she could. Since movies only took solar power and the radios and lights for the storehouse and town hall didn't take quite as much as was produced, there was nothing preventing them from making use of Lewis's massive collection of entertainment.

In fact, Catherine had suggested this become a tradition every evening after sundown, since means of producing light were difficult for the people of Aspen Hill to come by and it was a rare person who could sleep through all the dark hours of night. This would give them something to do before bedtime.

It was small surprise that the storehouse was packed that night, people crowding the floor on blankets in front and on chairs brought from the auditorium in back. And although the room had a heater it wasn't needed, and in fact halfway through the movie the doors at the front of the store, the back of the impromptu theater, were thrown open to let in some fresh air.

Trev and Lewis sat with the Larsons, awkwardly reveling in their hero status as the bringer of movies both before the movie began and after it ended. “They probably could've done this without us,” Lewis whispered after another family from the town came by to welcome them back during the end credits. “The library has plenty of old movies and TV shows to lend.”

“Maybe they didn't think of it until you suggested it as an option,” Trev whispered back. “People struggling to survive aren't going to be wondering about the possibility of seeing a movie, especially when they don't personally have the resources or knowhow to pull it off.”

There was a bit of socializing in the storehouse after the movie ended, as Chauncey turned on the lights and shut off the projector. After being alone aside from the company of his cousin Trev felt a bit overwhelmed at being the center of attention, and he knew Lewis had to be feeling it even worse. Luckily the Larsons rescued them from the crowd by suggesting they had a long walk back to the shelter and the boys were already asleep.

On the way up the street towards home Matt, carrying Aaron in his arms, sped up to catch up to Trev and Lewis walking at the front of the group. “So,” he whispered, mindful of his sleeping nephew, “you guys ready to get back to work?”

Trev gave his friend a confused look, while Lewis sighed. “You're speaking as the leader of the town's defenses, right?”

Matt shrugged a bit sheepishly with his free shoulder. “I've got to be honest, we're short on manpower. Most people are too busy trying to stay alive to worry about external threats. And to be fair, since Razor's attack we've only had a few incidents that really required the use of force. I wouldn't say people have gotten complacent, but patrolling the town has definitely dropped pretty low on the list of priorities.”

“With the weather warming up everyone should start worrying about it more,” Lewis said. “People will be on the move again, searching for someplace where they won't starve to death. Or at least searching for people who have enough for them to steal to survive another day. And any groups of marauders who holed up for the winter will be out and about now.”

“That's a yes, then?” their friend asked. Trev nodded along with Lewis. “Good. Lewis, I'd like you to start on patrols again. We were patrolling in pairs for a while but unfortunately we don't have enough people to do that anymore. Although while you're learning the new routes Jane's agreed to patrol with you.” He grinned. “Just be ready to take detours to hunt game. She likes to have a meal to bring home by the end of her shift.”

“I'm just fine taking patrols with Jane too,” Trev said quickly, slightly irked that Matt had paired her with Lewis. His cousin shot him an amused look.

Matt shook his head. “If you don't mind I'd like you to rotate through the three roadblocks for a while.”

Trev slowed down. “You're kidding. Even if you're short-manned on patrols you've got to have people willing to sit behind some cars across the road for a few hours.”

His friend snorted. “I do. That's the whole problem.” They both looked at him, and he made an annoyed sound. “What's the most likely route people are going to take into town? And if enemies with vehicles did attack us, where would they be coming from? The roads. You obviously think the roadblocks are a vacation and that's the problem . . . so does everyone else. The shifts there always have plenty of volunteers, the problem is people are treating it like a gossip circle. They just sit around chitchatting the entire time and barely even look past the roadblock.”

“So why me? I'd rather be patrolling with J-” Trev cut off, feeling his face flush, “with just my two feet and a lot of open ground to cover.”

Matt smirked at him. “You don't have to dodge around it, I know you've got the hots for Jane.” Trev opened his mouth to protest and his friend kept going. “And I'd love to pair you two together, but I won't for two reasons: one, I need someone serious at the roadblocks to try to get everyone back doing their jobs. No matter what I say they mostly ignore me and keep gossiping. You're more easygoing than Lewis so you'd get along better, but you'd also take it seriously and have a better chance of convincing them to take it seriously too.”

His friend fell silent. “What's the second reason?” Trev asked.

“Jane prefers to patrol alone.”

That didn't make any sense. “You just said she's going to show Lewis the routes.”

Matt coughed carefully. “That's because Lewis didn't spend the entire trip down the mountain following her around trying to talk to her.”

Trev gaped. “I barely talked to her a dozen times, and I always made sure I had a good reason!”

“Her words, not mine.”

It took a few seconds for him to pick up the pieces of his dashed hopes. “I guess that means she doesn't like me,” he said ruefully.

His friend clapped him on the shoulder. “No, she just doesn't want to talk to you. Don't take it personally, she doesn't want to talk to anyone, including me. She and Lewis will probably spend the entire time not saying a single word and both will be happy as clams.”

“You know I'm right here, right?” Lewis asked.

Trev sighed. “I'll try to get the roadblocks in order. You'll probably want me to start soon, right?”

“First thing tomorrow morning at Roadblock 3.” Matt clapped him on the shoulder. “Look on the bright side, at least you won't have to walk around.”

“I like walking,” he grumbled, but he wasn't really complaining.

* * * * *

The next morning Matt and Lewis left the shelter early, his friend to get things back in order as he resumed responsibility for the town's defenses, and his cousin to find Jane and learn the new patrol routes.

Trev didn't need to be at the roadblocks for another few hours, so after sleeping in as long as possible he got up and helped Sam, April, and Mrs. Larson cook breakfast. He did his best to hide the fact that he brought more food to the stove than he needed for himself, and mixed it in with what they were cooking so they'd have more than the palm-sized cakes they were getting by on. He wasn't a very good actor, but luckily they didn't bring it up.

After breakfast he did a tour around the shelter, checking the shipping container shed and its contents. Lewis had replaced the destroyed lock on the door with one of the set he'd also used to lock the hideout, the icehouse, and in case everyone was away from the shelter the front door as well, like they had last night. Although they didn't plan to leave the shelter unattended that often: even last night Matt's dad had insisted he wasn't in the mood for movies halfway through and had returned to bundle up in the observation post keeping watch.

When the sun was halfway up the horizon Trev made his way into town to start his shift at Roadblock 3, passing Roadblock 1 as he went. In spite of his comment about a few cars pulled across the road the roadblocks were actually much sturdier than the ones Turner had supervised building last fall. The cars across the road remained a feature, of course, but behind the wheels cinderblocks were stacked generously to hold the cars in place in case someone tried to ram their way through.

The furniture to either side was also stacked much higher and sturdily nailed into place, complete with a platform behind the wall of furniture that defenders could stand on to shoot at anyone attacking from down the road, protected by bits of metal and sturdy sandbags that hopefully would protect them from return fire.

It meant it might take longer to clear the way if a vehicle needed to get through, but since Aspen Hill had no vehicles that wasn't a problem for them.

Trev made his way to the south end of town and waved as he approached the small group at Roadblock 3. He got a few waves in return, from the two men on duty and one or two of the several women ranging in age from early teens to some who seemed far too old and frail for the duty.

They seemed only too happy to welcome him and immediately pump him for information about a surprising number of topics. Within the space of five minutes he found himself bombarded with questions about Matt, the food the Mayor had brought, the variety of entertainment Lewis had on his hard drives, Ferris's confiscation of the shelter and everything in it the previous fall, and conditions in the mountains during winter.

It looked like Matt was right about the gossip circle nature of the roadblock sentries. Trev did his best to shift the conversation to any activity on the road outside the roadblock. That mostly earned him amusement, since few people had approached the town during the cold months from any direction. The amusement didn't last long when he started asking about early warning measures, which Matt had set up but weren't being carried out.

The general consensus was that if he was so interested in making sure that stuff happened then maybe
he
should do it. The only person who didn't seem to think that was Hans Miller, a man in his 30s with a wife and children who'd remained at the periphery of the group, looking sad and withdrawn. The other man at the roadblock, Rob Jonas, was older and didn't seem interested in the roadblock
or
the gossip. Trev thought he might've just been there for the comfortable chair.

Since any further discussion seemed like a waste of time Trev excused himself and climbed over the cars to walk down the road a ways, checking the area with eyes accustomed to seeing every detail up on mountainsides blanketed with trees. He even pulled out his binoculars for a more thorough check.

When he returned he nodded politely at the others, still gathered around on reasonably comfortable seats chatting idly and most not even in a position to see past the roadblock. Then he pointedly hopped up onto the roof of the lefthand car and settled down in a crouch to watch the road.

After a few minutes Hans, as if embarrassed about being shown up, joined him on the car and sat with his legs dangling off the roof. Trev was actually a bit relieved, and more than happy to strike up a conversation with the man as they kept watch, if a grim one as Hans shared his grief.

The Miller family hadn't fared well that winter. Their infant son had died of sickness in January, and their young daughter Eve had developed a wracking cough that plagued her even after almost a month. Hans's wife did her best to keep the house warm and clean and tend their daughter during the cold months as Hans did his best to help the town in spite of his troubles, as well as going out with the hunting parties more than just about anyone.

He was determined to keep his family fed, although he grew more and more despairing as his daughter's condition continued to worsen and his wife's spirits seemed to sink a bit lower with each passing day. She'd never quite gotten over losing their son, and no hopeful words would reach her.

Trev had nothing but sympathy for the grieving father, but he couldn't help but wonder if Hans's presence at the roadblock when he wasn't out hunting wasn't his own way of fleeing from his grief. If so it wasn't his place to say, and he appreciated that he wasn't the only person there taking the duty seriously.

Halfway through the shift the gossip circle broke up and most of the women simply walked away, leaving the roadblock to those who remained. Trev gave Hans a questioning look but the man simply shook his head grimly: this was a common occurrence. Rob stayed, still sitting on his chair, along with an older woman named Betty Thornton and her daughter Alice.

Trev remembered Alice as plump but pretty, always trailing after the older kids hoping to be included. Now she looked as if there wasn't an ounce of fat or muscle on her body to fill the space between skin and bone, and she trembled slightly with every motion. Her mother seemed in about the same shape.

He didn't ask, but perhaps Hans was used to being around all the gossip because he answered anyway. Mr. Thornton had died in Razor's attack last fall, leaving the two women to fend for themselves. Neither of them had any skill at hunting and the winter had ended any chances of finding edible plants, so their options were limited.